


none is left to protest

by fruitbattery



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Theatre AU, techie molly, they/them molly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 14:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17003232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitbattery/pseuds/fruitbattery
Summary: Theatre brings out the best in all of us. Especially, surprisingly enough, Shakespeare.





	none is left to protest

The door to the booth creaks slowly open, and a purple hand slips through, fumbling at the wall. A single, weak incandescent bulb, recessed in the ceiling, flickers on, as the figure opens the door fully and sets down their bag. The room is dark despite the light being on, and absolutely full of crap. To the right is a window spanning the length of the room, but whatever lies beyond the thick plastic is still dark. In front of the window is a table, holding something large and flat and covered with a dust cover, as well as a small lamp with a piece of translucent blue plastic taped over the shade. To the left is a ladder, comprised of metal pipes bolted to the wall, that disappears up into the low ceiling. On the opposite wall, shelves and bins are full of cables and black string and various adapters. The smell is metallic and crackling, like an old-fashioned stereo has just been turned off.

Mollymauk Tealeaf flops into the swivel chair in front of the table with a sigh. They’re glad to be back here. Classes have really started to ramp up, the start-of-semester lull a distant memory. Reaching under the table, they pull out a black binder with a label written on several pieces of masking tape: 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

FALL 2018

MOLLYMAUK TEALEAF

IF LOST, RETURN TO THE SOUND BOOTH

Molly chuckles, remembering the time they’d joked to Beau that the last line referred to themself rather than the binder. She’d called them a sap and pushed them out of the dressing room– “Looks like you’re a bit lost right now, Molly–” and they’d gone laughing back to the booth. It was only later that they realized how right they’d been. The darkened theatre had become more of a home than anything they’d ever known.

Back in the present, Molly hears a key in the door outside their booth. They grin and pivot to face the door, and see two figures entering– a short woman with stubble on her face, leading a young black kenku by the hand. Wing? Either way, she looks relieved to see them. “Molly. This is the new intern I told you about. You up for starting training tonight?”

“Training tonight?” Molly jumps. They’d forgotten how eerie kenkus could be when they spoke. 

“Yeah, sure. Come on in. What’s your name?”

“I am Kiri.”

“Kiri. Come on in, Kiri. Let’s get you started in this wonderful business, yeah?” 

“Wonderful business.”

Keg smiles gratefully. “She can be hard to talk to, for obvious reasons, but I think she’ll make a great apprentice.” As Keg leaves, Molly looks down at the small bird-person, and they agree with Keg. A sound technician with the ability to shut up for once will be a great asset.

***

Caleb’s breath echoes in his own ears and he feels his feet slapping the pavement briskly. The cooling air burns his nose and throat as he hurries up the steps of the theatre, and he’s grateful for the warmth and light as he steps into the lobby. He hurries through a door marked “Theatre Personnel Only,” and he’s soon stepping through a small black curtain and onto the stage.

Instantly, his nose is assailed with the scents of drying paint and freshly cut wood. There doesn’t appear to be anything freshly painted, but Caleb knows that the smell of paint will linger no matter how long it’s been. He crosses the stage, treading on small, narrow pieces of colorful tape as he goes, exits the other side, and enters the green room. 

The two sagging couches are mostly taken up by the girls; one, tiny, dark skinned, with an undercut, gives him a wave as he enters. Curled up next to her is her girlfriend, on stage and in real life: a blue-skinned woman, with black horns and slightly darker blue hair. She seems to be asleep. On the other couch is a lithe young woman partially covered in scales. Her feet are in the lap of an incredibly tall, fuzzy woman with floppy ears and a septum piercing. Caleb shrugs his bag off inside the door, and plops down next to Beau, giving her a “move over” sort of a shove. She grumbles, but accommodates him. Caleb notices she’s got a stack of notecards and a pen in her lap.

Caleb moves further into the room and addresses the woman with the undercut. “Finkel finally convince you to study?”

She flips him off without looking up. “No. My 65 on his last quiz did. Jesus Christ, the dude is brutal.” Caleb winces. “Hopefully all my other quizzes turn out better, since he’s said he’ll drop the lowest one…”

Caleb leans back into the couch and lets Beau’s complaining fade into the background for a few minutes. The feel of the shitty couch is a great comfort after the week he’s had, and he feels himself slide sideways into real, genuine happiness.

A pink-haired head pokes around the edge of the door. “Anyone seen Don John’s mask? Nott, where did you last see it?” From the corner, a tiny green woman with sharp teeth pipes up. 

“Last saw it on my face, Cad.” 

Caduceus looks perturbed, but shakes his head and retreats around the corner. Caleb’s peace stays unbroken for a few minutes, until a blonde figure steps into the doorway. There’s a subtle shift in the room, and suddenly the attention of everyone who’s awake shifts towards the door. “Y’all have an hour ‘til warm-ups–” 

A chorus of “Thank you, one hour”s echoes around the room–

“–and I suggest you start getting into makeup and costumes. Cad will be around to show you around anything you need help with. There’s a sheet in each dressing room for you to write down complaints. We won’t know if your dress is too tight unless you tell us. And after you’re dressed, come to the booth to get your mic.” Bryce leaves the room.

Caleb peels himself out of the couch. As he leaves the room, he hears Beau trying to wake Jester, and smiles. Heading down the hall to his assigned dressing room, he pushes open the door. The room is filled with light, since two of its walls are entirely mirrors with round light bulbs around them. He sees Fjord, Marius and Bab already at their mirrors. As he watches, Bab takes a blotting sheet and pats down his face, scowling when he sees how much oil it absorbs. Caleb walks to the costume rack and changes into his white undershirt before sitting down at his own mirror, opening his makeup kit, and starting to apply it.

Ten minutes later, his makeup finished, Caleb heads for the communal bucket of hair gel and dips his hand in. His long red hair is pulled back in a tight bun, and he feels the cold gel soaking through his hair to his scalp as he applies it. Washing his hands off in the sink across the room, he hears Bab curse loudly and Fjord ask him what’s wrong. “I’m too fuckin’ oily for this shit, my makeup’s already coming off.” More muffled words, then Fjord leaves to get Caduceus to ask for advice. Caleb finishes washing his hands, and runs them over his hair. Finding it sufficiently dry, he starts pulling off his pants in preparation to don his costume.

Caleb is hopping pathetically, trying to get his foot out of the end of his jeans, when the door opens.

***

The first actors are coming towards the back of the house for mics, and Kiri has picked up the intricacies of working sound that Molly’s shown her surprisingly quickly. She’s just removing the mic from the belt that she’s placed on them for practice when Beau reaches the table they’ve set up outside the booth. “Make it quick, Tealeaf.” 

They grin. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Beauregard.” She rolls her eyes at the sound of her full name, as Molly lifts a small black case labeled #1 from a crate on the table. Beau turns her back to them obligingly, sliding off her blazer and untucking her shirt in the back. Molly slides the mic pack into the pocket in the back of her belt, feeding the cord up her shirt and out of her collar. They thread the cord through her messy updo and secure it to her forehead with a spot of tape. Tucking the excess cord, neatly coiled, into the pocket of the belt, they let her shirt fall back down and pat the small, square bump that the pack creates. “Go get ‘em. Don’t forget, you’re mic #1. And tuck in your shirt when you get the chance.”

Molly flies through attaching mics to the rest of the girls. Nott is the last one out of their dressing room on her short legs, and Molly equips her with a special mic with a short cord. She gives him a cheeky grin before going to sit in the house and chat with Cali, who’s dressed in a simple white dress. 

After a while, Molly notices that no one from the boys’ dressing room has emerged yet. Shaking their head and mumbling something about _incompetent men,_ they head off towards the dressing room. Pulling open the bright yellow door, they’re greeted with the sight of one Caleb Widogast, hopping around in his socks, his jeans mostly off and inside out, just in gray boxer briefs and a white undershirt. Molly clears their throat and announces, “Fifteen minutes to warm-ups everyone. Do try to be dressed by then.” 

“Thank you, fifteen.”

As they turn to leave, Caleb catches their eye by accident. They’re startled to see how red he looks for an actor changing in a dressing room. Caleb’s definitely been seen changing many times before, but he looks almost adorably embarrassed. Molly shrugs off the thought as they leave the room, hoping to Gods that they won’t have to push back the start time of the run because fucking Marius lost his coat again, or some shit. Jesus Christ, the man seems to hold up the start of the run a lot for someone who isn’t onstage until the second act.

***

When Caleb, dressed in his soldier’s uniform, emerges from the dressing room ten minutes later, the flush in his cheeks has calmed down significantly. He hears Caduceus coaching Bab through adding extra powder before he starts putting on the makeup. Caleb’s still not sure why he got so flustered when Molly entered the room. Plenty of technicians and crew have come in and out of the dressing rooms while he’s changing over the years, even Molly. But this time was different. He recalls feeling his chest flush as he realized who’d stepped in the door, and the way his palms and the crooks of his knees had seemed instantly to start sweating. He shakes the thought out of his head as he walks into the theatre proper and up the stairs to the back of the house, where Molly is waiting for him.

“Took you long enough,” they remark when he arrives. He rolls his eyes as he turns around and untucks his shirt. At least _this_ is a familiar routine. Molly has worked in the booth for at least the three years Caleb’s been at ZDU, possibly longer. They’ve miked him for every show he’s been in here. Caleb feels the familiar brush of fingers along his spine as the mic pack slides home, followed by a slight tickle as the wire is fed up through his collar. When he turns around to let Molly apply tape to his forehead, he’s shocked at how nice it is to be that close to their face.

With a dazzling, sharp-toothed smile and a pat of the forehead, Caleb’s mic is attached. He tucks his shirt back in and slips into his jacket as he joins the circle of actors forming onstage for warm-ups. The silly chants and songs are as welcome as a hot bath to an aching muscle, and he once again slides into his zone as warm-ups finish and the run begins. 

Three hours later, sweaty and exhausted, Caleb is walking back to his apartment when he realizes he’s still wearing the socks that are part of his costume. _Shit._ Caleb sighs and turns around to walk back to the theatre.

Approaching the grand brick building, he sees the front door closing as a figure steps out. “Hold the door!” he yells. The figure jumps and reaches for it, but it’s already swung shut. Caleb curses as he sees the lone, horned figure approach.

“What’s wrong, Cay-Cay?” Molly’s voice is loud and low as it echoes off the empty buildings. Caleb groans at the nickname and pulls up his pant leg to show off his black socks. “Almost wore these home, just coming back to return them.” Molly grimaces. “Actually, I was the last one out, and I don’t have a key.” Caleb’s heart sinks. He pulls out his phone and fires off a quick text to Keg.

_Any chance you’re still around to let me back in?_

No reply. _She must be driving._ Caleb sighs, and resigns himself to Cad’s annoyance the next night. He turns around and starts walking back to his dorm again. He feels and hears, rather than sees, Molly fall into step with him, and smiles a little in spite of himself. By now, Molly knows Caleb well enough to know when he isn’t up for talking, so they walk back to Caleb’s building in a comfortable silence.

Caleb’s apartment building is a gorgeous brick four story just on the edge of campus. He knows that Molly’s isn’t too far, so he’s not surprised when they accompany him all the way to the front door. As he’s turning the key, they speak for the first time in what seems like hours.

“Rest well, Caleb, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Great job up there tonight.” 

Caleb blushes again, and he’s not quite sure why. He murmurs out what he’s sure is an appropriate response, given his years of practice interacting with people while slightly out of it, and turns into the building as Molly walks off down the block.

***

Molly watches Caleb as he fumbles for the right key on his ring, finds it, and puts it in the lock. Inside, they’re reminiscing on tonight’s performance. Caleb’s Claudio is a sight to see– impulsive, a little dorky, vindictive, but kind-hearted. And _devastatingly_ handsome, of course. Molly wants to compliment him on his performance, especially the last bit, but they settle for a simple, “Great job up there tonight.” Caleb’s hand stills momentarily on his key, and he stammers, “Thanks. You were great too. Really… sounded good.” He gets the lock open and practically scampers into the lobby of his building. 

Molly looks after him curiously. Eventually deciding it’s too late at night to read much into it, they set off down the street to their own place, and some blessed sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's to the start of what will hopefully be a fully fledged AU piece! I'm basing descriptions of the theatre shit on my own experiences in high school and college theatre. 
> 
> Title is from Much Ado About Nothing– the full quote reads “I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.” Do with that what you will.


End file.
